


The Body Issue

by TheRealKentParson



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:20:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7463040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealKentParson/pseuds/TheRealKentParson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ESPN seeks out a certain handsome, bootylicious Falconer of the cover of its Body Issue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Body Issue

**_I’m loving all of this Kent Parson fan fiction and yeah, yeah—maybe I read some of your Zimms stories. Let’s call it solidarity for an old teammate. But I just found something that I decided to hold off reading until now, much like I’ve held off reading that new ESPN The Magazine issue._ **

**_The Body Issue._ **

**_The one featuring one Jack Zimmermann—on the cover._ **

**_Because sure as shit, the minute that magazine hit the stands, the fic fallout started, all about ogling Jack’s ass and the dreamy blue eyes and the intense stare and... trust me, I get it._ **

**_But where were you when I posed for the issue two years ago, fresh off the Cup? Fresh_ in the Cup, _if you need to be reminded._**

**_Not everyone fears full frontal._ **

**_And today, one of these GD fics is fucking everywhere. Probably some story about JZ suffering for his art and his sport, and that little baker guiding him through his crisis and into lo—fuck. Whatever._ **

**_So here we go, let’s read this Zimms, The Body fic together. Maybe I’ll even check out the magazine while I’m at it._ **

*****

He came home to a quiet condo.

_Home._

He’d only just started calling the Providence condo _home_ recently, but Bitty had felt it from the moment he first stepped foot in Jack’s new home. Sure, it was a bit stark, with its blank gray walls and austere furnishings, but Bitty saw it as a blank slate, a palate with room to add color and depth—room to grow.

**_Give me a fucking break. Jack’s no decorator. Kid, you’re lucky the décor doesn’t include a giant whiteboard to map out plays._ **

He’d skipped his Friday afternoon French lab to catch the early train to Providence, knowing he would arrive while Jack was still consumed with an off-day schedule packed with meetings, appointments and workouts. He had come to know this about Jack: an “off day” was never really off. It was time to catch up with trainers, with management, with his agent—and Bitty intended to take full advantage of an empty kitchen.

**_And heeeere comes the inevitable baking passage._ **

He had plenty of time to shop, to prep a cheat day dinner, to ready a pie for the oven.

_Keep it simple, Bittle._

A casserole—hearty enough to keep Jack happy, lean enough to keep the trainers at bay. And adaptable—MooMaw always said the blessing of a good casserole was the ability to reheat.

He reduced the heat low enough to keep the dinner warm and the aroma of baked chicken, mushroom and sage fresh. Bitty bit his lip and smiled to himself: _The smell of freshly baked herbs is like a warm, reassuring hug._

**_Save me._ **

“Bittle?”

Jack tossed his gym bag aside with a thud and stepped into the kitchen, sniffing the air.

“You’re early.”

Bitty rose on tipped toes and wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck. He reeled Jack in until they were separated by a whisper.

“Surprise,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to Jack’s waiting lips.

“I didn’t expect you ‘til later,” Jack said. “Smells good.”

**_Oh yeah Jack, that’s a way to get into a man’s pants. Tell him ‘food smells good’._ **

Jack pulled back from his embrace, still holding Bitty around the waist, but resting back against the counter. He looked drained.

“Honey, is everything okay?” Bitty asked. “I thought I’d surprise you and…”

“It’s a good surprise,” Jack said. He reached for Bitty’s hand, and kissed his fingers. “Just a long day.”

“Problem with the team?”

“They’re great.”

“Management?”

“Georgia’s always good to me. She wants to set up a children’s charity this season. Free hockey clinics for neighborhood kids.”

“Sounds right up your alley.”

Jack smiled, sort of. Bitty had long ago figured out that Jack dropped his hockey robot veneer when it came to kids—especially kids in a hockey class.

“Your agent?” Bitty asked.

Bitty knew that he had met with his management late in the day. Jack was always quiet about the business side of hockey. He had famously and infuriatingly—at least for Shitty—stayed mum on his signing with the Falconers. On finances, he was mute. Not that he didn’t pay attention. Jack had been well coached in the importance of representation and developing his professional brand. He just didn’t like to talk about it much.

What Bitty was seeing now wasn’t so much one of Jack’s famous silent funks as an edgy quiet. Something was eating at him.

Bitty took Jack by the hand to the couch, sitting him down and then curling himself into Jack’s shoulder.

“Tell me all about it.”

He stalled, looked t the floor and slowly opened up, just as he always did with a gentle nudge.

“We got a call from ESPN.”

“The network?” Bitty asked, concerned. “It’s not…?”

“The magazine, and no, not that.” Jack looked away. “They want to do photos.”

Was he _blushing?_

**_Of course he’s fucking blushing._ **

“Game pictures? From that hattie? Jack!”

“No, not that either. Studio shots.”

“Oh my god Jack, that’s awesome! A portrait of the most handsome forward in the NHL. Baby, I’m so proud of you!”

**_Make it stop._ **

Bitty wrapped Jack in his arms, but Jack didn’t respond in kind. He pulled back, fidgeting.

“You ever heard of The Body Issue?” he asked.

“HAVE I?? Jack Laurent Zimmermann, you do _know_ that the Ryan Kesler picture was my wallpaper for nearly a year?”

He sat up on his knees, more animated with each exclamation. “Did they ask you? _Are you going to_? _OHMYGOD JACK_ —you’ve got to do it!”

“They want me naked.”

“Who wouldn’t?!?”

**_Okay, I’ll agree with you on that one, kid._ **

“Naked as in _no clothes._ ”

“Honey, you’re naked in front of the guys every day. And if anyone can pull that off…”

“That’s different. It’s a locker room. This is a camera crew—and a magazine.”

Jack nuzzled at Bitty’s jaw, tracing its line with the tip of his nose. But something about it felt less like affection and more like a cry, a call for comfort. Bitty recognized it. He’d this side of Jack before. He placed his hand on Jack’s chest, feeling for the race of an anxious heart. He lowered his voice and slowed his pace until Jack settled down.

“Sweetheart, have you even looked in a mirror? There’s a reason they want you in The Body Issue and it’s not just your shots on goal.”

Jack rolled his eyes, then buried his face in his hands. Bitty peeled his fingers one by one away from his eyes, kissing the empty space left behind by each digit.

“You do realize that there are fan communities dedicated to your butt?”

“Bits…”

“And trust me, I’ll happily volunteer as president of the Jack Zimmermann Ass Appreciation Society.”

And finally, Jack smiled.

“You haven’t already?”

“There have been odes written about your derriere. There’s _haiku._ ”

Jack rolled his eyes again, as if focusing on the ceiling would somehow redirect the conversation. “You’re biased,” he said.

“I may be biased, I ain’t blind—and neither are those women with the _Marry Me Jack Zimmermann_ signs at the arena.”

“But I’d be naked.”

“Honey, haven’t you ever heard of a _tasteful nude?_ ”

Jacks eyebrows furrowed. His forehead creased in concentration.

“Sweetheart, think about the classics: Rose posing like Jack’s French girls.”

“Huh?”

**_Come on, Bittle. He’s not going to know that._ **

“The _Partition_ video?”

It earned him a blank stare.

“Beyoncé, Jack. The one with the French.”

“Oh.”

“Tastefully nude. You don’t have to show anything, not really. Okay, maybe some butt but you know that side-butt is the new side-boob.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Entertainment Tonight. Look, you just need some poses you can be comfortable with.” Bitty grinned. “You can practice them for me.”

**_Good god._ **

“People are going to talk, Bits.”

“Why? Because Pars—”

**_Here it comes…_ **

“Yeah. He did it, so of course now I have to do it.”

“Jack, they asked _you._ And your pictures won’t be anything like his. Seriously, those Vegas pics? Tacky.”

**_Hey, the showgirls were their idea, not mine. And the ‘Make It Rain’ shot was hot._ **

“It was very Kenny.”

**_You bet your haiku ass it was._ **

“Sweetie, that’s not you.”

*

The crew booked out the arena for Jack’s shoot—uninterrupted, locked down hours with a naked Jack Zimmermann. He was surprised to find that most of it was spent in a bathrobe as the crew adjusted lights, or touched up his hair.

He was anxious going in, but Bitty had texted him as he arrived at the arena: _Check your playlists._

He found it wedged between the Dean Brody and Linkin Park: “JZ’s Strip Mix”.

_Bittle._

**_Bile._ **

Jack wasn’t usually one to psych up to music, not like so many athletes. Not like Eric, who gorged on Beyoncé and…well, he wasn’t really sure who they all were, but he was plugged in before games. But it was Bitty’s gift to him, something special for the day, so he listened: music that soothed, then built to a powerful crescendo. Music that was meant to take him out of his head, to build his confidence.

**_Good luck with that, dough boy._ **

Jack took a deep breath, clicked play, and let the music sweep over him. By the time the makeup crew joined him in the locker room, he had settled in and begun to see it like a game. He just had to get his mind wrapped around it. Thankfully, makeup was a misnomer. There wasn’t much makeup involved at all, just hair styling and…um… baby oil application.

**_Haha. Good times. Roll with it, Jack._ **

He held on to his phone until the last possible second, tucking it away in the robe’s pocket. And just as he got ready to drop it, he took a moment to text, “I got this.”

Seconds later, Bitty responded, “They get a picture. I get the real thing.”

Hours later, Bitty’s phone rang, almost exactly when he expected it to. Jack would be home by now, probably leaning against the kitchen counter, or maybe resting on the couch. His voice was relaxed, the soft exhale at the end of a long day.

“How’d it go?” Bitty asked.

“Okay. Better than expected, I guess. They let me look at them. I mean, they’re not edited or anything, but…”

“They looked good, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, I guess they weren’t so bad. That profile one you suggested looked good.”

“Profile from the waist down…”

“And upper body turned toward the camera, yeah. I had the stick on my shoulders.”

“And the slapshot?”

“I wore skates.”

“I would hope so. Sweetie, I’m so proud of you!” Bitty lowered his voice. “I can’t wait to see them.”

**_Give me a break._ **

*

**_‘Tasteful Nude Jack Zimmermann’ on the cover of The Body Issue. Fine, fine. But I don’t care what anyone says, I love my spread. They’re framed and hanging in the hallway—showgirls, dollars bills and all._ **

****

 

 

 

 

 

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End file.
